


Ace in the Hole

by neonstardust



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alcohol Is Mentioned/Present But Largely Does Not Impact The Story, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Any Ship is Canon Here if you Squint Hard Enough, Demon Yahaba Shigeru - Freeform, Don't Let The Tags Fool You This Is Safe For Work, F/M, Fairy Terushima Yuuji, Futakuchi Kenji Is A Terrible Poker Player - Change My Mind, Gambling, HQ Monster Lovin Weekend, HQ Monster Lovin Weekend 2020, Half-Dragon Shirabu Kenjirou, Human/Monster Romance, Poker, Poker Nights, Telepathy, Tengu Ennoshita Chikara, Vampire Akaashi Keiji, Witch Yachi Hitoka, Yachi Hitoka-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonstardust/pseuds/neonstardust
Summary: There are many things Yachi doesn’t understand about Futakuchi Kenji. She doesn’t know what his major is. She doesn’t know how he got her phone number or why he calls on her for studying help. She doesn’t know why she likes his smile so much. She’s still not even sure if he cheated on his entrance exams or not.Despite being able to read minds, she respects his privacy and lets the questions go unanswered.Standing in his dorm in the middle of a high stakes game against five strong competitors, she really wishes she had read his mind before coming over.
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: An Asexual's Guide to Monster Lovin Weekend: Because Maybe Hot Monsters want to be Called Beautiful Monsters Just One Time





	Ace in the Hole

**Author's Note:**

> HQ Monster Lovin’ Weekend - Prompt: Telepathy

Counting to forty, Yachi knocks on the door for the third time. Her phone remains silent in her other hand. This isn’t like Futakuchi. Normally when he invites her over for studying, he at least texts her if he’s too lazy to come open the door for her. Nervously, she looks around the crowded hall. Should she leave?

Her phone rings suddenly, and she nearly flings it. “Ah!” Scrambling, she holds it to her ear. “Ya-Yachi Hitoka speaking.”

“Chill, it’s me.” A bottle clinks on the other end of the line, and Yachi hopes he’s not trying to mix studying with alcohol again. “Just come’n when ya’ get here, okay?”

She smiles ruefully. She’s been here five minutes already. Hanging up, she decides not to be too upset. She can already tell its abnormally loud in his dorm today. He must have the television at maximum volume. 

Cracking open the door, she calls out, “Pardon the intrusion.”

“Who’s that?”

“Wait...”

A chorus of voices shout, “Yacchan!”

Yachi jumps. Her flight or fight instincts kick in, and she clutches her purse for a weapon. _No, Hitoka_. She takes a deep breath. She doesn’t have to run from her fears. She’s brave. She can face this. 

Stepping out of the entry way, she finds several guys lounged around the sofa, and she backs away in fear.

“Yacchan,” Futakuchi calls. Sitting up, he beckons her closer. “You’re just in time.”

Ennoshita sits beside him, and he rubs his temples. “Why is she here?” His eyes narrow. “How do you even know each other?”

Akaashi sets his glass down. “I would like to know that as well.” His voice is smooth yet dark, like tinted glass ready to slice anyone foolish enough to test it. 

Yachi pauses. The former Shiratorizawa captain, Shirabu Kenjirou, has sunk as far down in the recliner as humanly possible. Lounged at his feet, Terushima Yuuji—a former Johzenji member and a current member on Kiyoko’s list of men to avoid—holds up a peace sign. 

Seated backward in his chair, Yahaba Shigeru stares at her with the same look of realization that she’s feeling. “She’s a telepath,” he declares.

Yachi hugs her textbook to her chest. Yahaba is a telepath like her. They all are. There’s a rigid barrier around their minds like barbed wire. The only one with unguarded thoughts is...

Futakuchi wraps an arm around her. “C’mon, have a seat.” He tugs her to the couch. 

“I-I’m okay.” She looks around for an exit. 

He flops onto the couch over the armrest, his back hitting Ennoshita’s side, and Ennoshita elbows him. “Don’t be like that,” Futakuchi says. “Join the fun.”

“Fun” fits this setting as well as “wet” describes the desert. Yahaba and Shirabu are both staring at her with an intense scrutiny now. Empty beer bottles clutter the floor, creating an obstacle course impossible to run through without slipping. 

“Why am I here again?” she asks, her voice high strung.

Futakuchi holds up a handful of playing cards. “It’s poker night.”

Yachi blinks. Looking around again, she finds the others all have matching cards. She hadn’t noticed it early in her state of panic. A bad feeling settles in her chest. Playing poker with one telepath is challenging... but a room full of them?

She looks at Futakuchi—at his dwindling pile of yen coins—and the realization of why she’s here hits her like a car without headlights. 

Pulling on a tight smile, she takes a step back. “I should really go. I have a test coming up, and, um, you don’t really have room for this many people.” She tries not to make eye contact with Ennoshita or Akaashi, who are smooshed against Futakuchi on the tiny couch. 

“There’s always room for you.” Futakuchi grabs her hand and pulls her onto his lap. 

“Wha...” The power shuts off in her brain. The blood flow ceases, and her heart pounds, the beating the only sound echoing through her head. 

Like an unsafe generator kicking on, the implications kick in, and her face heats up. She tries to cover her face and get up at the same time, but she mixes them up. Her hand slaps Futakuchi’s cheek. 

He blinks.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Ah—” She nearly tips off the couch. Futakuchi and Ennoshita both grab her shoulder to steady her.

Terushima laughs. Behind him, Shirabu tucks a pleased grin behind his cards. Even Akaashi looks torn somewhere between laughing and evicting all of them from Futakuchi’s dorm. 

Cheeks burning, Yachi tries to hop off his lap, but Futakuchi wraps an arm around her, pulling her against his chest. “I’ll forgive that slap,” he says, “after you play a round of cards with us.”

“But...” She looks around helplessly. 

“At least give her your seat, jackass,” Yahaba grumbles, shaking his head.

Akaashi picks up a bottle of whiskey. “If he touches you inappropriately, Yacchan”—he snaps the top open with his bare hands, shattering the glass—“just say the word.”

“And if you wanna be touched,” Terushima says, “just tell me the word—”

Ennoshita flings a book at him. “I’m sorry, Yachi. Don’t listen to them. You can leave whenever you want.”

“But—”

Ennoshita and Akaashi silence Futakuchi with matching glares. Annoyed, he mutters under his breath, his words tickling the nape of her neck. 

She represses a shiver and looks around the room again. They’re not too intimidating, she supposes. Yahaba just happens to be a demon capable of devouring souls, and Shirabu has reached a level of strength that allows him to read the thoughts of dragonborn and human alike. Nothing scary there. 

Side eyeing Ennoshita and Akaashi, she tries to remain calm. They’re her friends. They may be a tengu and a vampire, but that doesn’t automatically make them dangerous. On the other hand, the jury is still out on Terushima and his fairy mind reading abilities. 

Futakuchi rests his chin on her shoulder to look up at her. “Stay a round?” He says it like a request, but there’s an uncertainty in his voice that makes it waver into a question. 

“I guess,” she stammers, “one round won’t hurt.”

Yahaba and Akaashi exchange a glance. Rolling his eyes, Shirabu picks up his cards. 

Ennoshita throws two coins into a bowl. “Raise.”

“Call.” Yahaba adds his coins to the pile. 

Leaning back, Yachi whispers, “You’re playing for real money?”

“Money, favors, homework help.” Futakuchi shrugs. “It’s whatever. We just don’t have chips.”

Terushima frowns at his cards. He rearranges them, mumbling under his breath, “Which one is a ‘straight’ again?”

“Yuuji,” Shirabu says.

“Right.” He tosses in a handful of coins. “Bet.”

Akaashi sets his cards aside. “Fold.”

Yachi counts on her fingers. Next up is...

“Hey,” Futakuchi whispers. “Does Teru really got a straight?”

Yahaba rolls his eyes. “Nothing about him is straight. Hurry up.”

Ennoshita pokes him. “Don’t use my kouhai to cheat.”

Waving him off, Futakuchi whispers, “Tell me what Shirabu’s got.”

“A brain,” Shirabu mutters. His tail hangs over the arm of the recliner. He twitches the tip of it, and Terushima bats at it like a cat with string. 

“I don’t feel comfortable about this,” Yachi mumbles. She’s never had to face off with another telepath before except for her mom, and she’s never won against her either. 

“Please?” Futakuchi’s breath warms her ear, making it hard to think. 

Nervously, she reaches out with her mind. She feels like she’s at the bottom of a well, surrounded by unyielding stone. Akaashi’s thoughts are hard as steel, cold and untouchable. Beside him, Ennoshita leaves his mind open, but he keeps it vacant, void of everything except a reminder to buy more udon.

Just looking at Yahaba gives her chills. He’s a demon! How can Futakuchi expect her to beat him? He’s not just any demon either. He’s the right-hand man of the next demon king, Oikawa Tooru. 

No, she can’t do it. Clutching at the hem of her skirt, she tries to keep calm, but her heart pounds. 

Shirabu is equally out of the question. He went to school with a real-life satori—the best telepaths to ever exist.

The moment her mind brushes his, she feels a light burn, like a slap on her wrist. If she pushes any harder... No. His claws are scary enough. She doesn’t need her mind scratched open over a card game. 

Futakuchi’s running out of coins, though, and from the sound of it, he’s got a lot more than just money hanging in the balance. She has to try!

Reluctantly, she tries Terushima. His defenses feel weak, his mind almost empty like Ennoshita’s, but faint thoughts filter at the edge of her awareness. He had ramen for lunch. He’s afraid to call the doctor by himself, but he’s overdue for a shot. He wants Shirabu to relinquish the recliner. 

That thought cuts off abruptly, and Yachi sends a silent prayer that Terushima recover quickly from whatever attack Shirabu just hit him with. 

But it gave her the insight she needed. A sense of determination coming over her, she takes Futakuchi’s cards. “Call.” 

“What?”

She sends him a look. Face paling, he throws in the coins. 

“We already know his cards,” Yahaba reminds her. “You’re wasting your time.”

Yachi chews on the inside of her cheek. Yahaba’s right. Futakuchi put her at a serious disadvantage. Still, Sugawara taught her two things during high school: lipstick should always be bright red, and winning poker isn’t about having a good hand. 

Glancing at her, Ennoshita lays down his cards. “I’m out.”

Futakuchi stiffens. Leaning against her, he whispers, “You sure you got this?”

No. Smiling bitterly, Yachi thinks she’s never been sure of anything. She still has no clue what secrets Yahaba’s hiding in that hand, but they’ll find out soon enough. 

Terushima throws in a large handful of coins. “I’m all-in!”

“You’re not all-in if you still have coins leftover,” Ennoshita points out. 

Yahaba’s brow wrinkles. A hint of nervousness creeps into his gaze as he looks from Shirabu to Terushima. A singular tremble shakes his hand when he matches Terushima’s stakes. 

Yachi forces herself to focus on her breathing. This is the critical moment—the point of no return. Closing her eyes, she rearranges Futakuchi’s cards. The ace needs to be beside the king, she thinks. Futakuchi should be more orderly. 

Shirabu tenses. 

Terushima looks up. “Hmm?”

Glaring, Shirabu presses his lips into a thin line. 

Terushima stops kicking his legs back and forth. 

It makes sense now. Terushima and Shirabu are playing together. Shirabu’s hand is weak, which, she thinks, means Terushima must have the winning hand. 

Ennoshita sucks in a breath. Beside him, Akaashi watches the game with renewed interest. 

Shirabu shoots her a glare so cold, she shrinks down. 

Futakuchi squeezes her waist. “What’s happening?”

Yahaba throws his coins in. “I’m winning. That’s what.”

Nervously, Terushima looks at Shirabu for a hint.

He sneers. “Cheat all you want.” He tosses in his coins. “Your hand is garbage.”

Bolting upright, Terushima throws down his cards. “I can’t do this.”

Yahaba blinks. Silently, he sets down his cards. “I fold, too.”

“Holy hell.” Futakuchi laughs. “Damn, Yacchan, you’re killin’ it.”

“I feel kind of bad.” She scratches at her cheek. “I don’t like reading minds. It feels like an invasion of privacy,” she explains. “But if I hadn’t been trying to read Terushima-san’s mind, I wouldn’t have seen Shirabu-san only has one pair.”

“What?” Yahaba and Terushima shout together.

Eyes narrowing, Yahaba kicks him. “Why are you surprised?”

“Hey!” He scoots away from Yahaba. “Kenji doesn’t tell me his cards.”

“Stop calling me that,” Shirabu snaps. He glares down at his cards, a muscle working in his jaw.

This is his last chance to fold. Futakuchi had told her once before that their poker matches are a game of chicken, waiting each other out longer than necessary with higher and higher stakes until someone reveals their hand. 

Yachi has him trapped between a rock and a hard place. If he lays down a single pair, it’s game over, but his dragon pride won’t let him fold. 

“Ow!” She clutches her head. A migraine pulses through her temples, tugging like thorns. 

Akaashi and Ennoshita stand. Terushima ducks behind Yahaba, who pulls out his phone and starts recording. 

Seething, Shirabu relents. The headache dims. 

Futakuchi nudges her. “What just happened?”

“Telepaths shouldn’t broadcast their thoughts to the world,” Shirabu seethes. 

“What’s that mean?” Futakuchi whispers. 

“It means”—Akaashi sips his water—“she’s intentionally letting us read her thoughts.”

Leaning his chair forward onto two legs, Yahaba reaches out to poke Shirabu’s cheek. “You’re just bitter that you got called out.”

Shirabu smacks him. 

“That’s enough,” Ennoshita interrupts. “Shirabu, fold or call.”

He glares at her, his gaze burning with anger. “You don’t have a king.” He slams down his cards. 

“I don’t,” she confesses. Hands shaking, she lays out her cards one by one. A five of hearts. A four of spades. A three of diamonds. A two of diamonds. Closing her eyes, she places the last card on the table. 

“Damn,” Futakuchi sighs. “So close.”

“Close?” Yahaba repeats. 

Shirabu flips the table. Cards fly everywhere. Beer cans clatter to the floor. 

Scratching his head, Futakuchi says, “I feel like I missed something.”

“That’s the problem.” Yahaba drags his hands over his face. “Only you’d be stupid enough to miss a straight.”

Futakuchi frowns. Lifting his hand, he counts off on his fingers, brow furrowing. 

Yachi puts her hand on his. “An ace can function as a one.” She squeezes his fingers. “You had cards one through five.”

“It’s a one,” he mumbles. His eyes widen. “Wait, I won? I won!” He hugs her.

Face burning, she tries to wiggle out of his grasp. “I should really be going now.”

“Yes,” Shirabu says. 

Standing up, Yahaba offers her his chair. “No, please stay.” 

“As nice as it is watching someone bring Shirabu down a peg,” Ennoshita says, “your wallets will be sore tomorrow if she stays. Yachi was the undefeated poker champion of Karasuno in her second year.”

Yahaba sits back down. “Get out.”

Futakuchi pulls her against his chest. “This is my emotional support poker champ.”

Terushima raises his hand.

“I’m not sharing,” Futakuchi says.

Terushima lowers his hand. 

“Guys, please.” She pulls his arms away from her waist. “I wouldn’t say I was undefeated, and anyway, I really should go. I have to study.” Wiggling off his lap, she picks up her textbook and purse. 

“Please,” Futakuchi begs.

Silently, Akaashi snaps the top off another bottle, leaving behind jagged shards of broken glass. 

“Alright, alright. Fine!” Petulantly, Futakuchi throws up his hands in defeat. 

“Thank you.” She smiles. “This was fun, in a terrifying way.”

“Don’t talk like you’re leaving,” Futakuchi cuts in. “Study here.”

“Here?” She looks at the spilled beer and potato chips, her eyebrows lifting. 

Futakuchi scoops her up onto his lap, and she stiffens, her face heating up all over again. “Wh-what are you doing?” She’s facing him this time, and it gives her no place to hide. Her head feels light. 

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he says, “You’re my good luck charm.”

In the middle of fixing the coffee table, Ennoshita pauses, like he’s not sure whether he should set the table upright or hit Futakuchi over the head with it. 

“Here.” Futakuchi hands her the textbook. “Do your studying crap. I’m gonna clean these losers’ wallets out.”

Ennoshita sits down heavily. “You never learn,” he sighs. 

“Shut up, Enno.” Wrapping an arm around Yachi, Futakuchi holds his other hand against his chest. “I’m a better poker player than all you mind reading cheaters.”

“Says the idiot who brought a freshman to cheat for him,” Shirabu grumbles.

Futakuchi ignores him. “Besides, I won’t lose in front of Yacchan.”

“Oh?” Opening her book, she tries to let the tension of the early round ease from her mind. Scary as it was, it turned out okay. Now, she can at least have a clear conscious when Futakuchi loses all of the money she just won back for him. 

He pokes her side. “Don’t say ‘oh’ like you’re surprised.”

“Sorry.” Leaning her back against the couch arm, she rests her head against his shoulder and flips to chapter twelve. “Is it because I’m your ‘good luck charm’ now?”

“Don’t forget I’m an awesome poker player,” he says. “You’re just extra motivation.”

She smiles patiently. “I think you meant to say that I’m ‘extra luck.’“

“Nah.” Taking his new hand of cards from Ennoshita, he flips through them, arranging them to his liking. “Motivation. I can’t ask you out if I lose in front of you.”

“Oh.”

She stares at her book, no longer reading. Her cheeks heat up. Realization sinking in, she lifts the book up higher to hide her face. “ _Oh_.”

“Two cards,” he says. Ennoshita hands him a six and a queen. He’s already off to another bad start. 

But winning poker isn’t about having a good hand.

Focusing on Futakuchi’s mind, she lets her mental barrier surround him, protecting his thoughts from the others. She won’t be able to guarantee him every win, but this way, she knows he’ll at least win once. 

After all—she tucks a smile behind her book—they have a date to plan after this, bright red lipstick included.


End file.
